sitting here amidst the papers of my brother's english assignment: "THE NARRATIVE. a story is a universe, a world of diverse and complex meanings. each one of us is a living story. to discover its shape and essence is to livein balance, is to find the common thread, is to walk the one road that exists in all dimentions." the assignment uses the themes: the innocent or vulnerable overcoming a terrible force; the human need to search for and find home."


i'd kill for another undergrad experience, i really would.

of course everything seems so idyllic ... now. life was probably messed-up enough back then, but all i remember is a really good time. not the kind with beer or frat houses ... the kind with award-winning english professor-shamans who smoked acid with their daughters, coffee-like drinks from mad-crazy bartenders, alfalfa sandwiches, bloodsheets, british lit, math for the incurably mathematically challenged. what's not to love?

is there some point where life gets simpler, or is that the silliest question you've ever heard? really, though. i got to junior high and i missed the cradle of elementary school, even with all its abuses. i got to high school and couldn't stop thinking about eighth grade and how fantastic that had been. i got to college and missed high school like hell. i may never get out of grad school but as long as i've been here i've been thinking about how much i loved UH and how i'd give anything to be a naive english major all over again.

sigh.

um, tomorrow ... problem-solving writing exercises. wednesday: decimals. thursday: assessment workshop, no teaching. friday, reprieve. yay, yay, yay.